


Wüstenrose

by MDidact (SaigonTimeMD)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Amputee, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, BDSM, Blindfolds, Bondage, Bondage and Discipline, F/F, Gags, Latex, Nipple Clamps, Nipple Play, Oil, Orgasm Denial, Suspension, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 22:02:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8507080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaigonTimeMD/pseuds/MDidact
Summary: Pharah and Mercy have been regularly employing bondage play in their relationship, but what happens when Fareeha gives Angela the ‘go ahead’ to really go nuts?





	

                “Engel oder Teufel, mein Wüstenrose?”

                Fareeha’s German wasn’t the greatest, but she knew well enough the meaning of the words, or, more precisely, their consequences. She had only answered the latter once, several months ago, but that had been enough - at least until recently. Now the hellish syllables lingered in her drying throat, waiting for just the right moment to slip free and seal her fate. She shivered as the older woman’s latex-gloved fingers brushed her cheek, the gesture a complete surprise thanks to the leather blindfold over her eyes, her Eye of Horus tattoo peeking out just beneath. Angela leaned forward, close enough for Fareeha to feel the woman’s hot breath across her neck, and asked the question again, this time in a sibilant whisper.

                “Engel oder Teufel?”

                Fareeha’s mind flickered back to that first night out with Angela, and how reserved, how demure - even submissive - the older woman had seemed at the time, deferring to the younger woman’s wine choices and laughing at her every awkward attempt at humor. When they kissed on the Millennium Bridge, months of sideways glances and lingering contact finally given form, Angela surrendered herself completely to Fareeha’s bionic embrace, utterly at home in the younger woman’s synthetic arms. Although there was only a height difference of four inches between them, Fareeha felt she towered over Angela. What she now felt was quite different.

                “Fareeha? Are you alright? If this is too much, I–”

                The Egyptian shook her head wordlessly as she heard the steely edge fade from Angela’s voice and, after the sound of a glove being hastily pulled off, felt the Swiss woman’s skilled fingers press against her neck, checking the pulse. God, Fareeha adored her. The soldier turned her head down and kissed the bare palm of Angela’s hand, eliciting a quiet, private gasp from its owner.

                “Teufel,” Fareeha chose as Angela’s hand caressed her cheek, the German word sounding exotic and alien through her Egyptian accent. A quiver ran through Angela’s fingers in response.

                “A-are you sure?”

                “Mmmm.” She kissed Angela’s hand again, slower and softer this time. “ _Bitte_.” Angela withdrew her hand, and for a long moment, Fareeha waited in unsure silence. If the younger woman hadn’t been wearing a blindfold, she would’ve seen Angela blushing like a virgin and biting her thumb to stifle an excited squeal, a strange sight indeed given the woman’s tight, crotchless latex getup, but all she had to go on was a few calming breaths and then the rapid click-clack of her lover’s high heels on the room’s metal floor crossing away. Pausing at the gear table, Angela selected a toy she had not used in a while: a bright red buttplug with a devil tail. She applied a few drops of lube from a bottle on the table and easily slid it inside her waiting backdoor, sighing quietly at the completing sensation of her ass being filled. Even as close as they were, Angela still wasn’t quite ready to tell Fareeha that she was usually plugged all day – that would be a conversation for another time. Next, she selected a combination posture collar-and-circle gag getup she had only used once before.

                Remembering the first time she’d tempted Angela’s darker side, Fareeha dropped her jaw.

                As she turned back, Angela’s breath caught in her throat and a wave of desirous heat washed through her body at the sight before her; it was far from the first time the two of them had engaged in bondage play, but to see Fareeha’s mouth open, waiting for the O-ring, her head craned up slightly in anticipation of the posture collar, to see the muscular soldier’s tight body suspended in the middle of the room by the cybernetic joints at her shoulders and thighs and openly, eagerly offering up her last remaining vestige of physical agency so willingly, so  _submissively_ …it almost drove Angela mad with desire. The Swiss medic-turned-dominatrix strongly considered just tossing the evening’s plan (not to mention the harness in her hands) to the side, cranking up Fareeha’s abdomen to eye level, and straight up tonguing the Egyptian into a gibbering mess while she fingerblasted herself for the next hour or so, but the iron will that had defied death itself pushed such wanton notions to the side in short order. Tonight was about control; Fareeha herself had decided so.

                “Very well, Ms. Amari,” Angela said, her voice low and hard-edged again, a cunning smile crossing her lips. “But every choice comes with a price. I wonder how much you’re willing to pay?”

                Fareeha, still holding her mouth open obediently, made no verbal reply, but she didn’t need to; the shiver of anticipation that ran through her body was clearly visible, as was the small-but-slowly growing puddle of stickiness on the floor beneath her held-open thighs. Angela leaned forward and placed the studded leather head-harness around the Egyptian woman’s neck and jaw with a single swift motion, the attached gag – a shining silver circle - fitting snugly in her mouth and the collar enclosing her slender neck just tight enough to prevent movement without causing real discomfort. With a slide of her slender fingers, Angela sealed the mag-locks on the back of the apparatus, and Fareeha moaned reflexively, feeling the last ounce of control over her own body vanish into a restrictive haze.

                “Much better, Ms. Amari,” Angela cooed, her voice alluring and low, “Now, let us begin.” With a bit more effort than she would’ve preferred, Angela slipped her latex evening glove back on and sidled over to a climate-controlled medical cabinet; when she’d first acquired it from a military surplus, lubrication storage was hardly what she had in mind, but still, it did the job quite admirably. Choosing a pump-canister of clear massage oil, she returned to her suspended lover, whose ample chest now noticeably rose and fell as her breathing pace accelerated with expectation. Flicking the canister open, Angela allowed the oil to pour across Fareeha’s breasts and down her body in a thin stream, trickling over her defined six pack, gathering at her hips slightly, and finally dripping off of her mons pubis. Angela raised her arm over Fareeha’s head and directed the oil across the soldier’s shoulders where it descended languidly across the dimples on her lower back and traveled over and between her athletic, round asscheeks. Fareeha slowly exhaled through her nose, trying to calm her racing heart; through night after night of bodily exploration, Angela had learned just how to play with Fareeha’s senses, and it filled the Egyptian with the most wonderful worry.

                After depositing an amount she deemed satisfactory, Angela began to run her hands over Fareeha’s suspended body, rubbing the wood-scented oil into the younger woman’s skin, making it glisten, even in the low orange light. She began with Fareeha’s perky, C-cup breasts, squeezing and kneading the flesh, listening to the soldier’s breathing change with every movement; the medic-turned-dominatrix circled her fingers in to Fareeha’s brown, erect nipples and pinched them lightly. A quick exhalation blew between Fareeha’s held-open teeth, and Angela bit her lip. Slowly but surely, the older woman began to twist the soldier’s nipples in opposite directions, eliciting a rising whine from her collared throat; her shining body tensed, every muscle straining in response to the pain, and for a moment, Angela relented, letting Fareeha’s nipples slide slowly back around for a moment before tightening her hold and turning them further. Fareeha squeaked on a note the older woman didn’t think she could hit, but Angela only relented when she saw that the Egyptian’s straining body had finally begun to twitch reflexively. The latex-gloved fingers released, and Fareeha gave a loud huff. Her head was swimming already, and she had to blink back a few tears; the release of pressure provided less relief than she had expected, and the phantom pain of Angela’s merciless, twisting fingers refused to fade.

                “Pain and pleasure, Ms. Amari,” Angela chided as she gave Fareeha’s breasts a final pat before resuming her path down the suspended soldier’s body. She took special care to outline and massage the toned muscle tissue beneath her fingers, and Fareeha responded beautifully, tensing against the older woman’s slick hands and relaxing as her ministrations drifted. As Angela approached Amari’s lower body, she took special care to massage everywhere _but_ the Egyptian’s shaved pussy, which she left entirely uncared for. A few times, Angela allowed her fingers to come tantalizingly close, and Fareeha flexed her abdominal muscles, trying to meet those slick, latex-cloaked digits halfway, but Angela only clicked her tongue and moved her hand away each time, drawing quiet, frustrated moans from her willing captive. “Patience, Ms. Amari. You’ll cum when you’ve earned it.”

                Although suspended naked in a room with a comfortable temperature, Fareeha was burning up, her face almost unbearably hot. The pain in her nipples had only begun to subside, but pain she could tolerate; it was the complete submission that ate at her, prodded her psyche in strange ways, and filled her spinning mind with paradoxical thoughts of simultaneous defiance and acceptance. On the battlefield, Fareeha put her life in the hands of her commanding officer but she still had quite a bit of freedom in how to approach and execute the mission; here, she had no freedom or agency at all. Suspension was nothing new to their more intense routines, and they’d played with blindfolds since before that fateful night when Angela first suggested intimacy sans the soldier’s cybernetic limbs, but only once before had Fareeha given up so much – and never so willingly. The first time Angela had taken on her demonic persona and stolen away Fareeha’s ability to communicate, it had been too much; Fareeha, unsettled by Angela’s sudden menace and unprepared for the deeper waters, had choked out the safeword – ‘hydraulic thruster’ – nearly as soon as they’d begun, and the rest of the night was spent on opposite ends of the couch watching ‘Flip This Base’ reruns. Fareeha had considered that night quite a lot since then, and couldn’t shake that lightning crack of excitement that had shot through the fear and uncertainty of the moment when the reins were first taken away, nor could she ignore the obliterating wave of arousal that had swept over her the first time Angela called her ‘Ms. Amari.’ Now that she had weathered that first wave of panic and was being pawed and caressed by Angela’s slick, gloved hands, she felt like some obscene, erotic trophy, and she didn’t know how to feel about it; she could feel the love in every touch of Angela’s fingers, no matter how strictly she behaved, but she knew that her lover could do anything she wanted to her.

                Angela stepped behind Fareeha’s suspended form and placed her hands on the soldier’s shoulders; the tension was palpable and the older woman went to work immediately. Angela often massaged Fareeha’s shoulders at the end of the day anyway – even her ‘civilian’ model bionic arms put a strain on the Egyptian’s back – but now, with one of them naked and suspended in place and the other in a devilish red latex bodysuit, the act was as kinky as it was caring. Angela’s manner softened as she settled into the familiar routine of working the knots out of Fareeha’s back, and the younger woman relaxed against her lover’s touch. Gradually, Angela’s hands made their way down the soldier’s glistening form, tracing her dimples, before finally digging deep into Amari’s ass, her fingers leaving long marks in the wet skin. Ziegler had known Fareeha before the soldier had signed up for the body-altering surgeries that would allow her to pilot a Raptora suit, and as nice as her rear had been back then, the support provided by the cybernetics made it look even better afterward. Her gloved hands caressed and clutched Fareeha’s bottom lewdly, sometimes bouncing it in her palm, other times pulling it apart to reveal the Egyptian’s tight little asshole.

                Using her index and pointer fingers, Angela rubbed the oil into Fareeha’s crack, taking notice as Fareeha tensed slightly every time the medic’s fingertips passed over her clenching backdoor. Although Ziegler had learned to enjoy anal stimulation long ago (the devil-tail plug she was wearing was a smaller model by her standards – only five inches long), to say Fareeha had been reluctant to even entertain the idea would be an understatement of comedic proportions. Still, Fareeha turning herself over to Angela’s control presented her with a unique opportunity, and before long the older woman found herself teasing her lover’s winking asshole with her fingers, tracing her fingertips around the ring and even pressing slightly against the entrance. Fareeha’s entire body tensed, and she let out a worried moan as Angela lined up her index finger with the hole.

                “Relax, Ms. Amari,” Angela said, more an order than a suggestion.

                “Unh!” Fareeha tried to shake her head and protest.

                “I said _relax_ , Ms. Amari, or it’ll be _two_ fingers.” Angela almost growled out the words, but inside her own head, she began to worry. She knew how hesitant Fareeha was about assplay, but thought that the situation might be an opportunity for them to push Fareeha’s limits together because she had already gotten so much further than last time and—

                “Unh!” Fareeha was so turned on she could hardly think straight. She had absolutely no desire for anything to go into her butt in any direction but out, but being held there, naked and entrapped, utterly at Angela’s mercy, now about to experience something so dirty and there was nothing she could truly do to stop it…it was just so _hot_. It got even hotter as Angela’s free hand closed around the collar, putting just enough pressure on it for Fareeha to feel her grip. The older woman hissed into Fareeha’s ear with an edge like surgical steel.

                “You asked for this, Ms. Amari. I told you there would be consequences, but you wanted it anyway. Now only one option remains: are you prepared to pay the price?”

Fareeha, feeling Angela’s index and ring fingers pressing against her asshole, hesitated only a second.

                “Uh-huh,” she confirmed, and the puddle of grool beneath her hanging body grew larger.

                Without a response, Angela slid her fingers inside; although Fareeha had no time to relax, the latex gloves were so slick that her lover was buried to the knuckles almost immediately. Amari groaned at the anal invasion, and the alien sensations it brought; there was surprisingly little pain, but nothing that could be firmly identified as pleasure either – it was just…different. Angela herself was more lost in the moment, feeling Fareeha’s asshole tighten around her fingers as she remembered _her_ first time, and how novel, almost like a stranger’s hand, her own fingers had felt inside of her. Streams of moisture ran down her thighs, dripping soundlessly off the latex onto the floor below.

                “Very good. Very, very good, Ms. Amari,” Angela cooed. Carefully, she began to wiggle her fingers around inside Fareeha, and the Egyptian whined in response. Fareeha had never felt something so strange, and she tried to focus on the sensations of the fingers as they stretched and prodded her insides blindly. She wasn’t sure what all the fuss was about from a pure sense perspective, but the idea itself, the notion of having Angela’s fingers moving about randomly in her most private place was more than arousing enough to make up for it. Soon, after some deep breaths, Fareeha was able to gain a bit more muscle control back. Smiling devilishly as she felt Fareeha’s hole relax, Angela slowly slipped in her pointer finger; her younger lover tensed back up almost immediately, but by then all three fingers when in up to the hand and there was nothing Fareeha could do but groan at the intensifying pressure. Angela slowly started to thrust her three large fingers in and out of Fareeha’s ass, still cooing softly. Fareeha’s suspended torso swayed slightly with the motion, the magnetic suspensions still holding strong. Behind her blindfold, Fareeha’s eyes rolled back in her head as she lost herself in the invasive fingering; still not even close to sold on the feeling alone, but unable to deny the erotic value of the act itself.

                Just as Angela had begun to fall into a predictable rhythm, she withdrew her fingers entirely, letting Fareeha’s ass gape just slightly before closing up again. Fareeha mewled in confusion; had she done something wrong? All she heard was the fading click-clack of Angela’s heels, a distant cabinet opening, the _returning_ click-clack, and the low hum of another mag-lock on the suspension base above her head activating. Suddenly, a cold, lube-slick steel hook with a ball on the end slid into Fareeha’s ass; the Egyptian squealed, more at the temperature of the invading object than the invasion itself. Her cry rose as the hook, obviously attached to the suspension base, lifted skyward, pulling her butt up and slightly out. With a single finger, Angela pushed on Fareeha’s hip, starting her turning in the air ever so slowly.

                Fareeha’s face and chest burned as the sense of objectification overwhelmed her; rotating on display, feeling like nothing but a toy for Angela to play with as she pleased, the ache between her thighs spreading progressively over her body, Amari barely noticed the sound of Angela washing and drying off her gloves, nor did she register the feeling of the older woman’s hands on her jutting rear until Angela dug her fingers painfully into the flesh. Fareeha’s breath was ragged already, sweat mingling with the oil on her glistening skin, and the night had just begun. Only Zeigler’s voice cut through the lusty haze, pulling Fareeha back from the brink of…whatever it was that she was teetering on the precipice of.

                “As before, Ms. Amari,” Angela explained in a patronizing tone, “pleasure and pain.” The older woman’s fingers curled around the shining steel hook, and she gave it a little pull. Fareeha’s breath caught in her throat. “And since you’ve had a bout of pleasure, I’m afraid it’s time for pain again.”

                The first slap caught Fareeha so much by surprise that it took her nearly two seconds to tense up in response, every muscle suddenly rigid – after a brief moment of delayed reaction – as the sharp pain of Angela’s strike across her exposed ass shot through both the Egyptian’s body and mind. Amari cried out without a sound, just a pained, indignant rush of air through her held-open lips, and her eyes, barely open a moment before, shot wide beneath the blindfold. The second slap, on the opposite cheek, brought a more immediate reaction, and Fareeha cried out loud, the pain overriding the shock. The third and fourth spankings came in rapid succession, both on the same side, and Fareeha squirmed and squealed, but her already-limited motion was further hindered by the mounting hook. Tears began to stream from underneath the blindfold.

                Angela bit her lip as she struck Fareeha’s darkening rear again and again, each lightning-fast slap sending the Egyptian’s oil-slick ass jiggling. Fareeha didn’t stop wiggling, couldn’t stop, but Angela’s aim was perfect and merciless. Strike. Squeal. Strike. Squeal. Her gloved hands left outlines on Fareeha’s tender skin, and Amari’s breath hitched after every spank. From her own experience, Angela knew what Fareeha was now realizing the sinister ulterior purpose of the sensuous massage that had started the evening, what she had most likely first suspected when the pain in her nipples refused to subside: the oil, far from relieving the heat of the blows, simply sealed it in, allowing it to spread throughout the Egyptian’s straining body. Strike. Squeal. Strike. Moan. Strike. Moan.

                The edges of Fareeha’s vision were burning red; every harsh strike seemed to cover more of the black interior of the blindfold in swimming crimson. More than that, her strength faded, sapped away further and further by each blow, replaced by pain blossoming into something so terrible it almost felt ecstatic, like being submerged in liquid fire. Her voice dropped an octave as her throat and neck relaxed against her will, the sound turning chesty and raw. She felt herself again on the edge of something alien, and each new wave of pain nudged her closer over the line, over the cliff. In Fareeha’s mind’s eye, she turned back and saw Angela behind her, reaching out to give her one final push. In the real world, Ziegler brought her open palm crashing across Amari’s spank-darkened ass, but the Egyptian woman hardly felt it as she took a step back over the cliff and let herself fall.

                Strike. Grunt. Strike Grunt. Pause. Strike. Grunt. Pause. Fareeha was only tensing reflexively now, taking each spank across her reddened bottom with as little reaction as one might have to driving over a bump in the road. No squirming, no attempts at escape, only acceptance. Her curiosity piqued, Angela grasped Amari’s rear with both hands and raked her fingers up; Fareeha rasped wordlessly, drool dripping idly out of her open mouth. Her breath, though still ragged, had returned to a surprisingly steady pace, and a few more pensive spanks from Angela did nothing to interrupt the rhythm.

                Angela quickly circled around in front of Fareeha, noting that her neck was limp in the collar and her mouth was relaxed around the O-ring. The older woman idly flicked her lover’s nipple, but Fareeha only moaned softly. Again, Angela began to have doubts; Fareeha asked for this. Specifically. She had given consent. When Angela had talked things over with her younger lover, she had tried to be as clear as possible so Amari would know exactly what sort of experience she was potentially consenting to, but still the doubt hung over Angela’s mind. What if this was too deep? Should she try to bring Fareeha back? Should she keep going? Would her lover be angry? Scared? Would this still be too far too fast, even though she hadn’t used the safeword? Angela shook her head, trying to clear the doubts. She was overanalyzing, and she knew it. Fareeha had said consented, and Ziegler had complied. She had brought her lover to the deep, and now she would bring her home.

                “Ms. Amari, can you hear me?” she asked. Fareeha’s head turned towards Angela as much as it could in the collar/gag harness, but she made no verbal reply. Ziegler’s eyes narrowed, and she slid one finger into the O-ring. “Ms. Amari, if you can hear me, lick my finger.” Fareeha’s tongue slowly rose up and curled around Angela’s finger, tasting the latex obediently. Angela smiled. “Ms. Amari,” she continued as she withdrew her finger, “I’m going to make you to cum now.” She carefully unlatched the O-ring and folded it down to the front of the collar. Fareeha’s mouth still hung slightly open. “Do you understand?”

                “Yes, mistress,” Fareeha husked after a long pause, her voice breathy, almost sleepy. The bottom seemed to drop out of Angela’s chest as she heard the words, and she licked her lips instinctively. Fareeha had called her ‘Mistress’ before, but only jokingly; now to hear it so earnestly was almost too much. Angela traced her fingers down Fareeha’s body until, finally, her hand cupped around the younger woman’s groin. Again, there was no stiffening, no tensing out of modesty: only acceptance. Ziegler dragged her hand across Fareeha’s soaked slit, coating it with her juices, and brought it back up to her lover’s face.

                “Lick,” Angela commanded, and Fareeha obeyed, lapping up every last drop of herself on the older woman’s glove. After the submissive Egyptian had cleaned it to Ziegler’s satisfaction, Angela brought it back down and began to slowly circle Fareeha’s clit, letting her drip freely on the ground while still not pouring on the fire just yet. Unable to completely contain herself, Angela’s free hand slipped down to her own trimmed pussy and began to rub slowly in mirror of her movements on Fareeha’s body; it was only fair, after all. She circled faster and faster, still refusing to actually touch the Egyptian’s love button, but Fareeha’s breath began to pick back up again nonetheless. Just as Angela reached a fever pitch, she released, leaving her young lover breathing hard in the open air. “Pleasure and pain, Ms. Amari.”

                A trip to the toy rack later later, Angela tightened the clamps around Fareeha’s nipples, which had only just before begun to lose their ache. Fareeha bit her lip but didn’t tense or squirm; she willingly allowed Ziegler to tighten the tiny, golden clamps further and further, pinching her erect, brown nipples more and more. Angela listened to her lover’s breathing as a pressure gauge, only ceasing to tighten them when the Egyptian winced; unlike the spanking, this was not the main course, only the spice to the pleasure that was to come. From her pocket, Angela produced two tiny golden weights, and hooked them on the ends of the clamps. Fareeha only licked her lips.

                Finally, Angela placed her hand at Fareeha’s pussy and began to stimulate: sliding her pointer and ring fingers inside, she placed the palm of her hand against Fareeha’s clit, and began to rub back and forth. With her free hand, she pulled the hood of her own clit back and teased it with a single finger – specific, time-tested habits died hard. Angela’s eyes were fixed on Fareeha’s face, watching as the younger woman’s mouth opened and closed in silent expressions of pleasure, the muscles in her face twitching from stimulus overload. She saw the streaks of tears coming from beneath the blindfold and smiled.

                After all that stimulation, bringing Fareeha to orgasm was unsurprisingly quick, and soon the Egyptian’s abdominal muscles began to tighten with the building climax, even though the rest of her stayed relatively relaxed. Angela was far from finished, however: she withdrew her fingers and hand, switching her stimulating to a single finger planted firmly on Fareeha’s clit, rubbing back and forth and up and down, much the same way Angela had taught herself to orgasm back in her denial-obsession days.

                “M-mistress?” Fareeha choked out as she danced on the tip of Angela’s finger, and Ziegler saw her face pulled between pleasure and agony, held at the edge by the furious but minimal stimulation. Angela rolled her eyes dramatically (a somewhat empty gesture, given the blindfold on her lover) and added another finger. Fareeha’s jaw dropped.

                “Cum now!” she hissed, and Fareeha obeyed. The Egyptian’s body shook all over as the climaxed, and every rapid wiggle of Angela’s hand rippled through the taut muscles and oiled brown skin. Fareeha moaned long and loud, her breath catching every now and then as some new paradox of sensation impacted, and soon she was almost doubling over as her abdomen tightened and relaxed repeatedly, milking every drop of pleasure from Angela’s hand.

                Angela was so distracted by Fareeha’s orgasm that she almost missed her own, and she continued to rapidly rub herself, legs shaking in her red, high-heeled boots, mouth lazily open, her own ragged breathing muffled by Fareeha’s lewd groaning. Her mouth twisted into a smile as stars danced in front of her eyes and she quickly let go of herself, preferring to let the pleasure bounce through her body unaided. She found herself leaning against Fareeha, who still hung in the air, shaking slightly with the aftershocks of her climax, and couldn’t help but embrace her young lover, holding her while the last waves of pleasure coursing through her muscles finally vanished.

                “Thank you, mistress,” Fareeha stammered out breathily.

                After a long while, Angela carefully removed the weights and nipple clamps, shortly followed by the anal hook and posture collar. Cradling the limbless Egyptian in one hand, Angela deactivated the suspension base and carried Fareeha quite easily over to the ‘recovery cushion:’ a large, oversized, square pillow covered in a red silk sheet. She lay Fareeha down on it gently and removed the suspension magnets from joints of the younger woman’s cybernetics. Pulling her latex gloves off, Angela laid down next to Fareeha on the pillow, and slowly removed the leather blindfold. Fareeha’s brown, teary eyes were still staring ahead; wherever she had gone, she was still there. Smiling softly, Angela began to kiss her, first on the cheek, then on the nose, then on the mouth, then all over. She kissed Fareeha’s chin, her forehead, her ears, her neck, her clavicle, her shoulders, her breasts, her abs, her bellybutton, her thighs, her everywhere. This was their ritual, how they ended every night of bondage play, with Angela kissing everywhere her lips could go. She carefully turned Fareeha over and kissed the back of her neck and shoulders, her backbone, her shoulderblades, her dimples, even (very, _very_ carefully) her round, hand-mark-covered butt. Angela turned Fareeha back over and watched. The Egyptian blinked once, but said nothing. Ziegler repeated the process again and again, always kissing, always checking on Fareeha’s progress, until finally her younger lover blinked the tears away and met her eyes directly.

                 “That was…amazing,” Fareeha finally said after a long time, her voice cracked and dry. Angela brushed a strand of hair from her face.

                “It was?” she asked, still not entirely sure what kind of mindset Fareeha was in, and how far out of subspace she’d made it.

                “Yes,” Fareeha said confidently. The raptor was back. Angela melted inside. “Kiss me again.”

                The older woman climbed over Fareeha, her blond hair falling atop the Egyptian’s forehead, and happily complied.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I wrote this back before it was confirmed that Pharah is not, in fact, an amputee, so that's kind of nullified, but oh well! This is also my first attempt at a 'traditional' bondage scene, and although I've had just a little experience in that field, I probably messed things up, so sorry about that. Pharmercy/Rocket Angel was a ship I didn't totally get the first few times I was exposed to it, but now it totally makes sense to me. Hope you enjoyed it as much I enjoyed writing it!


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